


Possessive Causative

by Krystalicekitsu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Community: spn_gabriel_sam, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel is a little put-out by Sam's constant flirting. Sam seeks to distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessive Causative

**Author's Note:**

> for [](http://spn-gabriel-sam.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_gabriel_sam**](http://spn-gabriel-sam.livejournal.com/)'s [Ficbattle](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gabriel_sam/tag/comm%3A%20fic%20battle). First round is '[Protective/Possessive](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gabriel_sam/100103.html%20-%20cutid1)'. First posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/samgabebattle/2887.html).

The door slams shut with a ferocious bang.

It's magnified, Sam thinks, by the fact that the one slamming the door doesn't need a door in the first place.

"-not what you-"

"-just think that-"

"-never with that-"

"-FUCKING technicalities-"

"-fries for Dean-"

"-try that with _me_ -"

"-not even-"

Words evaporate pretty damn fast from Gabriel's stupid, frowny mouth when Sam plants one there.

He plays dirty. Filthy even. Moaning like a whore in that way that tickles his chest. Grabbing Gabriel's hips and backing him against the wall to press in against him, grind against him, beautiful stimulation because it hadn't been on purpose (or at least not the way Gabriel had been taking it), but if it had.

Oh, if it _had_.

If it had been, Sam might have to admit that the thought of a possessive Gabriel hit nearly all his buttons. Might have to admit that being shoved against a wall or a bed or bent over a table and fucked got him harder than most of his fantasies during his teenage years had.

The thought of being held down, forced down got him off.

The fact that Gabriel actually has the strength to do it… It just gets him that much hotter.

He might have to admit, if it had been on purpose, that the finger shaped bruises over his hips and around his wrists leave him aching for days. Might have to admit that he presses against them in the shower as he jacks himself off with quick, forceful strokes, because that's how Gabriel would do it. He'd have to admit that pressing down on them til the ache is a sharp agony is what finally spills him over the edge.

He might have to admit it.

But right now, he just has to concentrate on Gabriel.

On Gabriel switching their positions violently, slamming Sam back against the wall hard enough that he can feel the pattern of the embossed wallpaper through his thin shirt. He's done this so many times, he doesn't blink when he's suddenly on the bed, on his back and less his clothes.

Doesn't blink when Gabriel fucks right into him in one fast, smooth stroke because he's already lubed and stretched just enough not to tear, but not so much that he won't feel it for the next three days. It's the only thing he'll feel in his ass for those three days, he knows.

And -oh god, yes- that's the other-

The other-

Oh fuck.

That's the other thing.

His neck hurts, bent back so far instinct demands he submit unequivocally and he does. Lets Gabriel's fist in his hair strip away all his defenses and pretenses. Whimpers because he can't _not_.

Whimpers because, "You're _mine_ , Samuel Winchester. All. Fucking. Mine. I don't fucking share and you wouldn't be on the menu if I did. I got you lock, stock and soul for the rest of eternity and don't you _fucking_ forget it!" growled in his ear does things to his dick almost as much as the cock filling his ass on every stroke.

Every inward thrust stretches him a little more, fills him up and makes him whine in his throat. Every time Gabriel pulls out, the head of his dick brushes against Sam's prostate and there's no way he can last long against that.

But Gabriel can.

Because the point of this exercise, Sam has learned, is not to find release, but to cool a furious, judgmental archangel down enough that he won't smite whoever had looked at Sam twice.

Sometimes Sam comes three or, if he's particularly displeased about something, four times during one of these sessions, shooting dry long before Gabriel's done. It's not like he minds because-

 _Fuck._

There. That's it- Gabriel using teeth on him, digging along his clavicle and dragging teeth across his neck with force. With intent. This isn't a tease. It's a warning.

Sam comes, keening, for the first time as Gabriel bites down on the junction where neck meets shoulder, right where nerves bundle in a tempting knot. He shudders, hands scrambling for something to hold on to. His cock jerks, and his thighs tighten around Gabriel.

Gabriel is still going when Same comes back to himself, mixed breaths of 'mine' and 'Sam' and 'please' interspersed with forceful thrusts. One hand detaches from where Sam's hips had been held in the air and fists around his cock.

Fuck, he can't be hard again already.

He's not but he's definitely getting there and Sam doesn't stop it. Doesn't even try.

If he's coming clean here, he might have to admit that it's not accidental (the supposed flirting, that is) all the time. Maybe one in every ten encounters is engineered to bring about this. Because Gabriel can be forceful in bed. Will take and use and hold and control if Sam asks him, but there's always a lingering flavor of restraint.

Of caution.

That's not what Sam wants.

Sam wants this. Wants Gabriel fucking into him not because Sam asked, but because he has to. Because he can't _not_ try to own him. Because, maybe Sam doesn't quite believe that Gabriel's solution to their little Cage problem had sort of bound them together in ways that mean Sam won't ever have to worry about where he's going at the end of the line. Maybe he doesn't quite trust that just yet.

And Sam's always been one to push.

Push for more than he had, occasionally push for more than he's gonna get. And yet somehow walk away with the cake all the same.

Gabriel squeezes painfully where his hands are pressed to the dip in Sam's waist. Sam can't stop the hoarse shout anymore than he can the pleasured whimper.

"Your attention belongs _here_ , Winchester. _On **me**_. Nowhere else!" Nails raked down his chest- more sharp lines of pain and he's so close so very close.

When he comes again, Gabriel has just switched things around so Sam's on his chest, ass in the air. Gabriel's still fucking him into next week, long, powerful strokes that aren't hurried anymore, but all consuming. The hand in his hair clenches every so often and Sam's occasional moans have turned into keening whimpers.

Gabriel pauses, shifts and then snaps and Sam comes from the sound far more than he does the result of the snap.

Because he's all trussed up now, spreader bar forcing his knees apart, arms spread wider and chained securely at the headboard.

"D'ya get it yet, Sammy-boy?" Gabriel pants over him as Sam shudders his way through his second orgasm. Gabriel bites down across his shoulders, digging into the meat of his muscles. Sam bucks and moans when he feels his skin split under teeth.

Yes. This is what he needs. To be owned. ~~To be wanted~~.

Gabriel growls, fucking him faster and faster and Sam winces when his dick starts to stir painfully. It's too much, too much. Way too soon and too much.

Gabriel's pulling out all the stops tonight- bondage, domination and just the hint of Sam's abuse kink that he's hidden from the Trickster. Archangel. Whatever.

It's too much of a good thing and he's too hard too soon.

He whimpers and Gabriel snarls at him.

And Sam tries to think unsexy thoughts because- because-

He clenches his eyes shut, too much feeling, too much emotion all at once. Its, just. Too. Much. But Gabriel doesn't stop and Sam tries harder to will his erection to go down because it _is_ painful. This much stimulation over such a short amount of time and he can't help the pain in any way.

Gabriel's brushing against, or over his prostate what seems like every single thrust and his whimpers this time around aren't 'so good, shit, fuck Gabriel more' but 'oh god, too much, please no more.'

He's fairly sure he's crying now, too sensitized not to be, not to have some form of release.

He jerks when he comes again, toes curling, face buried in the sheets on a painful sob, arms straining and _god_ , his dick _hurts_.

The white out of pleasure is a murky gray and he's sure he's coming dry. Gabriel's saying something with that low growl of 'mine' above him, but Sam can't hold on to it.

Dry, fucked out and overwhelmed, Sam passes out.

He does not faint, damnit.

He manages to wake up in time to feel Gabriel's rhythm start to falter and then increase. And then the slick hot pleasure filling him up as Gabriel finds completion and fucks him harder as he comes.

And then, all at once, it's over.

He's laying on his back, Gabriel curled around him. The restraints and the spreader bar are gone. He's not clean (Gabriel never washes himself off Sam), but the sheets are and they're pulled up to his chest.

"Sooo…"

Sam's never been more- Oh hell, he's just tired and worn out and damnit, do they have to talk now? While he has no thought processes? When he's more likely to say the first thing that pops into his head?

"Gabe, I'm tired, well fucked and you drug me away from really good fries for this so I'm still hungry. It can wait," Sam states and tries on a glare. Gabriel pays this one just about as much attention as he does the others.

Which is 'none'.

"It really can't, Sam. You're mine. You seem to keep forgetting that. Stop _flirting_ with everything that passes by you!" Gabriel's not so much scowling as not-smiling right now.

"Gabriel," Sam can feel his face fall flat, his tone go disbelieving, "she was _five_. I'm not leaving you for a five-year-old."

"But you are leaving me?" the tone is light and playful, but if Sam turns enough he bets- yeah. And, _oh_.

Sam doesn't quite know what to do with that. With the subtle look of dread and resignation that flits behind Gabriel's eyes for a long second before his mask slips back into place.

So he huffs. Says, "She'd have to have better candy than one sad tootsie-pop."

Gabriel's smile relaxes just a hair, just a fraction, "You take candy from strangers?"

"Better than taking candy from kids," Sam grouses and tugs the archangel against his chest.

"True," Gabriel concedes and palms over the raised hand print on his right hip, "Get more candy that way, though."

"Mmhm," Sam plays along. Because he's not going anywhere, and it's starting to look like all that possessiveness really means that Gabriel wants him to stay.


End file.
